


through the devilish cold

by trixstar



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Childhood Memories, F/M, Gen, Mild Language, Waterbending & Waterbenders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26456950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixstar/pseuds/trixstar
Summary: Braving the South Pole is hard enough without all the baggage.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 18
Kudos: 51





	through the devilish cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperpenpal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperpenpal/gifts).



> to think this was all born from a singular tweet... mish why did you do this to me... 
> 
> anyways yes faerghus four!! waterbending!! memories!! angst!! 
> 
> also yeah disclaimer that i havent rewatched atla at all, my memory from more than a decade ago and a couple of google searches were my only basis for this. theyre their pre-ts ages too!!
> 
> enjoy <3
> 
> title taken from isis by bob dylan !

Felix’s water is always hot.

This seems like an insignificant observation. Dimitri knows it’s only natural for a waterbender to have control over their water’s temperature when they reach a certain level of power after all. It’s only a little difficult honestly and, if he just puts his mind to it, Dimitri’s sure he can heat up his just the same, make it boiling the way Felix’s is. Make it scorching, make it burning, make it _hurt-_

But he doesn’t and he never does get used to the blistering heat of Felix’s.

“What are you looking at, boar?” Felix barks out, eyes still trained on the rock in front of him. His stance is battle-ready, arms ready to swing, water around him waiting for his command.

Dimitri chuckles lowly. There aren’t a lot of hiding spots in a place as barren as the South Pole. Even less that are conveniently situated near boulders like the one Felix is currently testing his strength on. Not an uncommon practice for particularly rowdy waterbenders, but not really recommended either. 

Water isn’t meant to destroy after all.

“Do you do it on purpose?” He asks, stepping forward from the thin pillar of ice he’d been hiding behind. Upon closer inspection, he sees that the rock is horribly weathered now. Another burst from his friend and Dimitri is sure it will crumble.

Felix finally deigns to look at him, eyes narrowed. As always. “What are you talking about?”

Dimitri brushes the hostility away. “The heat. I can always feel it radiating off you. Do you make your water scathe on purpose?”

Felix stills, shoulders going rigid.

“...I don’t owe you an answer.”

Dimitri releases a breath before looking up at the darkening skies. “It didn’t use to be like that,” he continues, “when we were kids, you always made your water the coldest amongst us-”

“Well, we’re not kids anymore,” Felix spits out and the sea around them quivers the slightest bit, “so I don’t know what you expect from me.”

Dimitri sighs. “I only asked you a question, Felix.”

“And I said I didn’t owe you an answer. Was it so hard to leave it at that?”

By default, Dimitri’s expression morphs into one of hardened resignation and it’s a mistake, he knows because Felix has never liked that look on him. On anyone for that matter. But there’s only so much of a facade Dimitri can keep in the face of the other boy’s… aloofness. Only so much of a smile he can glue onto his lips before everything falls apart.

(Everything _always_ falls apart.)

“I’m leaving,” Felix says abruptly and, without another word, he does, boots crunching noisily on the snow. 

Felix always does this. _Leave._ When they were kids, Felix would never even think to leave him alone, would never even entertain the thought of being apart from Dimitri so long, nor stay away willingly.

But, as Felix said, they’re not kids anymore. Things have long since changed.

Dimitri watches him go. Let’s Felix's figure gradually escape his sight before turning back to the boulder he’d been destroying. He steps closer and places his hand on the surface. Still warm. An effect of the scorching water.

He can pinpoint it actually. The exact moment Felix’s water had gone from ice cold to scathing hot.

_There is fire everywhere._

_The damage is devastating and the air is heated, melting away all the igloos, all the innocence._

_Dimitri is crying the loudest as Sylvain tugs on his hand roughly, already somewhat of a gruelling task considering how he’s tugging Ingrid along with him too, Felix clutching on to his back with what looks like a death grip._

_“Dimitri, please, we have to go,” he says, voice hoarse._

_“Glenn,” Dimitri hiccups, “Glenn said he’ll catch up. He will, won’t he?”_

_And the way Sylvain’s eyes harden and how Ingrid and Felix break into another chorus of cries is somehow answer enough._

_He remembers Sylvain pushing them roughly into an igloo, stuffing a sniffling Felix into a pot with a huge lid and a near hysteric Ingrid into the chest next to it. Remembers Sylvain telling him to crawl into the sack of fish and to keep quiet as he hid himself in the second sack, shaking and breathing hard._

_He remembers the sheer amount of hope that filled his chest when he'd seen Glenn enter the igloo, face bloodied and expression frantic. Remembers the exact moment their eyes meet through the hole of the battered sack and the smile he'd given Dimitri after looking around to see the shaking pot, the noisy chest, and the other sack of fish suspiciously too close to his._

_Dimitri wishes he does not remember what comes after._

_He wants to purge his memories of the scream Glenn lets out when a Fire Nation soldier kicks him to the ground, face smashing against the snow with a sick sound. Wants to forget the anguish on his face as he yells that no, there are no more waterbenders in the South Pole, that they’ve succeeded in capturing the last one this very moment and Dimitri so desperately wants to forget how much he’d wanted to scream with every fiber of his being because Glenn is lying. Dimitri, Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain are right there and they can fight, they can win, he’s sure of it._

_But there’s that look in Glenn’s eyes as he meets Dimitri’s through the sack. That look that told him to stay put and be quiet._

_So, like the good boy he is, Dimitri does._

_But Felix doesn’t._

_The pot bursts with scathing hot water, shattering into tiny pieces and dousing the soldier almost completely. Then shouting. From the soldier, from Glenn, from Felix who’d so recklessly nearly melted the roof of the damn igloo, from Sylvain and Dimitri who’d gotten splashed the tiniest bit through the shoddy sacks. So much noise, so much discord. He hates it. Dimitri absolutely hates it and Felix’s water burns-_

_He wishes he does not remember the way Sylvain grabs him by his cloak and drags him away, kicking and screaming, doing the same for Felix and Ingrid even if it is clear to anyone that it pains him to have to do so._

_He remembers the scuffle as they run away, Glenn beneath the soldier, arms bound and body writhing desperately on the ground telling them to run, to keep running or else-_

_The soldier bringing a rock down onto his head is engraved in Dimitri’s memories._

Dimitri opens his eyes and takes a calming breath.

The sun is still high in the sky and he’s somehow managed to make tiny whirlpools in the water around him, swirling rapidly and gaining speed. He takes another shaky breath before eventually regaining the composure to dispel them and restore any semblance of peace to his surroundings.

 _Damn it all_ , he thinks as he runs a hand through his hair.

With one last steadying breath, he backs away from the boulder, from the haunting familiarity Felix’s water always has and lifts his hand, gaze determined.

The water around him follows and the rock breaks with an audible crack.

* * *

Sylvain winces as he hears the door to their little makeshift hut swing open and slam shut, Felix appearing into view for a split second before he collapses onto one of the four piles of furs haphazardly splayed on the snow.

He trades an uneasy look with Ingrid across the fish they'd been roasting over a small fire.

 _Do you think he and Dimitri?_ his eyes say.

 _Most likely,_ Ingrid's gaze responds.

And the question is answered soon enough as Dimitri clambers in and casts a lingering look on Felix's tense form before sighing.

"Found any more fish?" Sylvain asks conversationally, trying for a smile. 

It's not good to let this kind of energy settle, even if it's something to be expected with a companion like Felix. It's Sylvain's job to regulate things, to keep the peace.

Dimitri offers him a small, apologetic smile. "I wasn't able to find any. My apologies, Sylvain.”

He shrugs. "It's all good. We already have one anyways," he gestures at the one fish Ingrid is rotating around a stick, "I'm sure we can split this evenly."

Both Ingrid and Dimitri give him unconvinced looks and even Felix joins in with a loud scoff from his position on the floor. Sylvain’s grin widens. They’re all mocking him, he knows, but, hey, if the tension could always dissipate so easily like this then he would gladly be the butt of the joke.

"Or not. Fine, let's reel in some more," he says, getting up and dusting off his pants, “come with, Dims?”

Dimitri nods. “Of course.”

He throws one last look at Ingrid and gestures at Felix as soon as Dimitri turns his back to grab a bucket and exit the hut. She nods reassuringly before tossing him his fishing rod and shooing him away once and for all and Sylvain has to keep the dopey smile off of his face so he doesn’t get frostbite as he and Dimitri step out to brave the cold.

The sun is starting to set. Sylvain makes a mental note to tell Ingrid to kill the fire as soon as they’re done cooking if only to guarantee them the slightest bit of stealth and safety. 

They could never have too much of that these days.

“Where’d you think would be a good spot?” he asks Dimitri smoothly, despite already eying a particularly enticing patch of snow to sit on by the ocean.

Dimitri chuckles as he follows his gaze. “I’d say where you’re looking will do, Sylvain.” 

He laughs. “Great minds really do think alike!”

And the blond grins, bright and beautiful before letting out a laugh himself. It’s nice, what genuine happiness does to Dimitri’s face, Sylvain thinks. It’s also nice that he gets to be the reason for it.

They don’t share a lot of laughs here. It’s never the time, Ingrid says and, more often than not, Dimitri will only offer him a pity chuckle or a smile that never quite reaches his eyes as they forge onwards. Felix, Sylvain has accepted, would rather be caught dead than laugh at his remarks, but he isn’t immune to them. Sylvain treasures the little snorts he elicits, the rare bouts of quiet laughter that Felix allows himself when it’s just them, alone, vulnerable.

As Sylvain sits upon the snow, he wonders how it’s come to this.

_“Take care of them,” Rodrigue says._

_If the words didn’t look like they physically pained to say, Sylvain might’ve reacted worse._

_“I like to think I’ve been doing a great job of that, yeah, chief,” he responds cheekily. His smile is sharp and plastic._

_Rodrigue sighs, weary. As if Sylvain is making this horribly impossible and, despite it all, Sylvain feels searing hot anger uncurl in his insides because, hell, Rodrigue’s not the one who’s being asked to leave. Rodrigue’s not the one being practically banished from what’s left of their sad little village in the middle of a harsh fucking winter. Rodrigue’s not going to be the one that takes care of Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid._

_No, Sylvain would be doing that._

_“Deep down, I know you understand why this has to happen.” The man’s voice echos tinnily inside the igloo._

_Sylvain forces his smile to widen. “Explain it to me again.”_

_Rodrigue's gaze hardens and, at the back of his mind, Sylvain takes note of just how eerily Felix is starting to resemble him._

_“The Fire Nation knows you’re all still alive. They’ll know where to look for you. Know that all they have to do is come back here to get rid of the last four waterbenders-”_

_“Okay, I regret asking,” Sylvain raises a hand to stop the older man from talking any more. He doesn’t want those pictures in his head. Doesn’t want to think of what could happen if the Fire Nation got their hands on Ingrid, Felix or Dimitri._

_Sylvain would sooner give up his own life before he’d let any of them die._

_And he guesses that’s what he hates the most about this whole thing._

_He hates that Rodrigue is right. Hates knowing that they’re only endangering themselves and everyone around them by staying and feigning ignorance. Sylvain hates that they have to leave everything behind again, as if they hadn’t just gotten so much ripped away from them when the damn Fire Nation attacked._

_He absolutely loathes it._

_“I’m sorry,” Rodrigue says and Sylvain lets out a hollow laugh._

_“Think you owe that more to Felix and Dimitri, chief.”_

_The statement is a reminder to himself that he has to be kind. To understand that it can’t be easy sending your son and someone who might as well be into exile. He has to be kind, to have patience now more than ever._

_He has to._

_Rodrigue laughs, bitter. “I’ll talk to them soon. Before you leave. You’re dismissed,” and with that, he turns away from him, back to his scrolls._

_With a simple dismissal like that, you’d never think of how heavy the events that actually transpired were._

_When Sylvain exits the igloo and meets Felix’s glare, Dimitri’s furrowed eyebrows, and Ingrid’s knowing gaze, his heart splinters the slightest bit._

_He is the eldest. He will protect them or die trying._

“Sylvain!”

Sylvain startles from his reverie, fishing rod shaking in his grasp as he turns to where Dimitri is standing. Mentally, he curses. Going down memory lane was never a good idea out here. (He’s supposed to be _better_ than that.)

He releases a pleased chuckle when he meets the blond’s proud eyes, lifting a sphere of water with a bounty of fish swimming inside.

One would think he’d brought Dimitri along just to get him away from Felix, but, really, that’s only a plus.

Dimitri’s water is naturally warm. Warm enough for fish to crowd into it, eager to escape the frigid waters of the South, but not scorching like Felix’s which, in Sylvain’s opinion, has always been a little too much. (Since the Fire Nation, since Glenn-)

“Nice work, Dima!” Sylvain grins as he gets up and walks over to him, bucket in hand.

“This should be more than enough for Ingrid.” Dimitri’s tone is relieved.

Sylvain shakes his head. “I doubt any meal could ever fully satisfy her, but it’s worth a shot,” he shrugs. Ingrid could inhale more than what he, Dimitri, and Felix combined could eat in one sitting. An amazing feat, sure, but also frightening. The girl’s got a monster appetite. One of many endearing traits.

She’d actually been the one who’d caught their lone fish meal earlier, while they were walking along the water onto their next camping ground, where their little makeshift hut stands now.

(Trips like those are always silent. Sylvain had tried to fill the void the first few times, but found that quiet travel suited their group more lest arguments break out and Felix ends up walking forward alone, Dimitri muttering quietly to himself, and everything else that always went wrong when Sylvain opened his mouth. _Why does everything always have to go wrong?_ )

She’d simply stopped walking, taking a calculating glance into the ocean before stabbing her spear into the dark waters, effectively startling him and Dimitri and causing Felix to go into his battle stance in an instant, and pulling it back up to find a fish hanging limp from it.

She’d smiled so brightly then, wide and mesmerizing because, _yay_ , food and Sylvain had found himself so endeared, so _entranced-_

A fish slaps him across the face.

“Sylvain!” Dimitri squawks out, panicked and that doesn’t turn out to be a good thing because he accidentally loses control of the liquid sphere and the next thing Sylvain knows is there are fish flopping _everywhere_ . Helplessly floundering back into the sea or just… _there_. Fish on land. Chaos.

He gets moving immediately. “The fish, Dima!” Sylvain rubs his cheek before snatching the fish that had come flying at him so boldly from the ground and scrambling after the ones that hadn’t made it back to the water.

He’d be damned if he couldn’t feed his friends because of _one_ gutsy fish.

A lot of things happen all at once.

First, Dimitri gets into gear and starts chasing fish too, adrenaline running high apparently because it somehow hadn’t crossed his brilliant mind to just conjure another sphere of water and recapture the fish that way. Like any _normal_ bender would.

Second, Sylvain nearly trips over himself in his haste to throw his bucket over a fish making its way back into the ocean, sides twisting painfully as he avoids the icy floor and, _god,_ _was that going to hurt for a few days,_ is his only thought as he lets out a clumsy, yet triumphant yell as the fish disappears underneath his bucket.

Lastly, Dimitri accidentally bumps into him and, instead of the fish, it’s _Sylvain_ that splashes into the freezing cold waters of the South Pole.

“Shit!” He yells because _holy hell_ was this water absolutely _frigid_ and no amount of clawing onto the ice actually gets him back on it because he’s wearing _fucking_ _mittens_. The _one_ time he’d chosen to wear them and _this_ is where it gets him.

Sylvain decides never to wear mittens again.

Before he can say anything else though, he’s suddenly being lifted up from the ocean and the cold morphs into inexplicable warmth in an instant.

It takes him a split second to realize what’s happening.

“Dimi-”

“Sylvain, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bump into you,” Dimitri looks significantly stressed as he places him back down on the ice, still keeping the water around him carefully hot.

Sylvain doesn’t answer for a while, teeth still chattering audibly as his body reintroduces itself to proper temperatures and _oh shit,_ the fish he’d been clutching- _where is it?_

And to his relief, he sees it, swimming peacefully with him inside the sphere along with a dozen of other fish, uncaring of how they’d suddenly been plucked from the ocean. All they know is they need warmth and, how ironic, Sylvain didn’t think he’d ever agree on anything with _fish._

But _thank fuck_ because it looks like they'd be having a feast tonight.

His friend startles when he breaks into a fit of relieved laughter.

Dimitri’s water is warm. Sylvain will always be grateful for that.

* * *

Sylvain’s water… changes.

Changes in a sense that it is always exactly what they need, warm when it needs to be, cold when necessary, and Ingrid has always appreciated that about it, about him. Sylvain, always everything they need when they need it. Sylvain, the easygoing peacekeeper. Sylvain, the patient mediator. Sylvain, anything and everything.

...God, how she wishes he’d have let her accompany Dimitri instead.

“Did you fight?” Ingrid asks, seemingly to no one as she continues roasting the poor little fish on the stick. She can already feel her stomach grumbling at the sight, measly as it is. “Sylvain and I heard a crash. You know that can’t be good for our whole staying inconspicuous plan, right?”

Felix doesn’t answer, but she knows he’s still up. He is always the last to sleep and first to wake. Training well into the night and returning to it at the crack of dawn when they’re not on the move. Ingrid used to do the same, tried to keep doing it too, but now she’s just tired. Something about slinging water in the darkness doesn’t strike her as appealing anymore.

“Felix-”

“No,” he bites out, voice muffled by the furs, “he stuck his nose into my business and I walked away. He’s the boar that broke the damn boulder.” He’s still turned away from her, carefully concealing his face.

Ingrid sighs. He’d gone so long without calling Dimitri that. “What exactly did he do?”

“None of your business.”

“Is everything you do always going to be none of our business?” The amount of times she’s heard this from him is surely nearing infinity.

“Doesn’t cooking take concentration?” he redirects.

“Felix, I am literally just rotating a fish on a stick.”

“And you’d probably do it better if you stopped talking to me.”

And there is silence then, companionable and welcome as they let the words simmer. Felix had just told her to focus on rotating a fish on a stick. How thoughtful of him to recognize the intricacies of fish rotating and the pure concentration it required. Ingrid wants to applaud him. Surely he realized how ridiculous that sounded.

Instead she snorts and Felix finally sits up, hiding a smile behind his hand as he tries to school his expression into something more stern, more critical. 

Ingrid takes it back, maybe dealing with Felix is alright after all. Banter is always fun. Banter distracts them from the greater evil chasing them everyday.

“I hate you,” he says, no real heat behind the words (unlike when he says them to _Dimitri-_ )

She rolls her eyes. “I’d be careful if I were you. I _am_ in control of our dinner,” she waggles the stick weakly, shaking the sad dead fish. The poor thing never stood a chance.

“You?” Felix crosses his arms, eyebrow raised amused smile playing at his lips (a rare sight, a beautiful sight,) “threatening me with food? _Wow_.”

Ingrid shrugs. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Now it’s Felix who rolls his eyes. “Whatever. They’ll come back with more.” 

“So you _do_ have faith in Dimitri.”

“ _No_ ,” his voice drips with disdain, “I have faith in your boyfriend.”

And then there’s a shit-eating grin on his face that Ingrid has to look away from to conceal the blush she knows is forming on her face.

“ _Funny_ ” she says, trying and probably failing to sound like the statement hadn’t just thrown her in for a loop. Like it always did whenever even the slightest implication of Sylvain and _more_ is thrown at her. 

God. _Keep it together, Ingrid._

“Was I interrupting something when I came in?” Felix’s tone is teasing.

Ingrid tenses before shaking her head. “No, just… just reminiscing.”

“About?”

A beat.

“...I don’t think you want to know,” Ingrid says in a careful, measured tone, knowing that that in itself is already an answer.

The smirk falls right off of Felix’s face.

_“You’re not going to go after them?” Ingrid raises an eyebrow as Dimitri exits the hut. Even when he is outside, she can still hear his heavy, clumsy steps._

_Sylvain shrugs. “I sent him out to get more fish. It’s a simple task, Ing.”_

_“You know, he’s going to wander towards Felix at one point, don’t you?”_

_“All the better then,” Sylvain lets a smile settle on his face, genuine, but small,” maybe they can finally settle their differences.”_

_Ingrid can’t help but sigh. “You have a lot of faith in Felix’s patience.”_

_“Leaning more towards Dima’s persistence, but it is what it is,” he gestures for her to let go of one end of the stick and proceeds to do the fish rotating._

_She hums thoughtfully._

_While the quiet is something common for their group, quiet moments with Sylvain have become increasingly rare these days. He is always out and about, insisting on being the one that hunts for food with his trusty fishing rod and withered spear. Always the one volunteering to scour their surroundings for the clearest ice and chipping at it for their fires. The one who offers his furs on particularly cold nights and the one that leads the way. Always._

_Anything and everything. That's what Sylvain is._

_It’s a shame he doesn’t bend often._

_The familiar thought crosses her mind as Sylvain gets up to grab a bowl with water he’d collected and places it on the plate atop the smaller fire Ingrid had built earlier. The boiling pit, he’d so proudly dubbed it, right next to their fish pit. They wouldn’t need it if Sylvain would just… heat up the water himself like Ingrid knows he can. Purify it with his own power-_

_She feels guilty for the line of thought._

_“Makes you think, doesn’t it?” Sylvain lets out a little huff as he sits back down on his ice stool. “They used to be so close.”_

_“Things have changed,” she says automatically, Felix’s insistence of it being so has rubbed off on her._

_“Yeah,” Sylvain sighs, sounding wistful, “hard not to notice.”_

_And Ingrid agrees. Because Felix and Dimitri used to be inseparable, Ingrid used to be engaged, the Southern Water Tribe used to thrive, they all used to live in it, Sylvain used to bend at every given opportunity._

_(One is not like the others.)_

_“Do you think Glenn would be disappointed?”_

_Ingrid’s eyes snap up to meet his._

_“Sylvain-”_

_“Probably shouldn’t have brought it up, huh?” he chuckles, bitter, “Just curious, I guess. He loved Dima, loved Felix.”_

_Loved you, he doesn’t say, but Ingrid hears it anyway._

_“He loved you too,” Ingrid offers, remembering the way Glenn’s eyes used to soften at the sight of Sylvain joining them sledding, hiding bruises Ingrid hadn’t recognized at the time and smiling in a way that she’d realize much later in life was fake and plastic._

_He huffs amusedly. “Good to know one older brother loved me then.”_

_Ingrid’s winces. There. The flying bison in the room. The cause for all old wounds and awkward silences during playdates held in the Gautier igloo, tension always thick and gazes unsure._

_Miklan wasn’t blessed with bending. And he’d made it abundantly clear to anyone that’d listen that he loathed Sylvain for being able to. For having power. For being “better.”_

_Miklan had hated it and, over time, after countless nights of laying battered on thin furs and wiping blood from his clothes, Sylvain had learned to detest it too._

_“I didn’t ask for this,” Ingrid had heard him whisper to Glenn once, shaking as he held back tears, “I didn’t ask to be able to bend,” and she remembers Glenn taking him in his arms, quiet as he rocks Sylvain gently, anchoring and present._

_The memory never quite leaves Ingrid’s mind._

_“Sylvain-”_

_“Yeah, definitely shouldn’t have brought it up,” Sylvain laughs casually and Ingrid winces at the sharpness of it, “my mistake. You don’t have to say anything.”_

_She hates how often he does this, pulling away when the conversation accidentally passes surface level. Ingrid reaches for his hand before she can think better of it._

_“I’m here,” is all she says as she holds his gaze, determined and hoping with all her might that her sincerity comes across._

_When Sylvain’s startled expression slowly morphs into one of unadulterated appreciation, Ingrid feels her breath hitch._

_Here are another couple of things Ingrid remembers from her childhood._

_She remembers feeling her heart race whenever Sylvain smiled at her, remembers the way she’d felt crushed when she’d found out about being engaged to Glenn, remembers always wanting to be around Sylvain despite it, and dreaming of a world where they’d get married instead, be happy, and ride off into the sunset._

_The slew of feelings then feel eerily similar to the slew of feelings now._

_Familiarity lurks in the way she yearns to curl up next to him on frosty nights. Or in the way her heart clenches at the pained exasperation on his features whenever he and Felix argue, even worse when they have to watch Felix and Dimitri fight and Ingrid isn’t stupid, she knows what this is, what it has always been._

_But now is hardly the time for it._

_“Ingrid,” Sylvain begins, voice tender and Ingrid has to look away because he’s too much sometimes._

_Anything and everything. That’s what Sylvain is._

_The moment is lost when Felix stalks into the hut._

Ingrid is broken from her reverie when Felix laughs mirthlessly. 

“All of you are always so intent on dwelling on the past,” he says, eying her critically, simmering anger beneath it all, “when will you accept that we need to _move on_? You can’t just let the dead control you forever-”

“That’s ironic coming from you,” Ingrid can’t help but say, petty at Felix having turned this against her, at Felix always having to turn everything into a fight, “considering how you still treat Dimitri.”

“Don’t go there,” he warns.

“It’s not so different, isn’t it? Not different at all, in fact.”

Felix’s glare becomes more enhanced. “ _Ingrid-_ ”

A loud splash interrupts their ensuing argument, followed by distressed yelling.

One shared look later and they’re out the door, bickering forgotten and hackles up.

* * *

Felix wants to say he’s surprised by the sight of Sylvain’s entire body encased in a sphere of water, but he isn’t. Considering everything, this seems onpar for them now. Unfortunately.

He pinches the bridge of his nose as Ingrid rushes from his side to the other two, gaze admonishing as she eyes the red mark suspiciously shaped like a fish tail splayed across Sylvain’s face. Despite the predicament, the man is smiling widely, pleased watching the fish swim inside the sphere with him.

“Care to explain?” Felix asks pointedly. It’s a question directed to the pair, albeit 99% to Sylvain and 0% to DImitri. (Yes.) He is careful not to meet the blond man’s eyes.

Sylvains grin widens. “ _Fishing_ , Fel. Fishing happened.”

“That’s hardly an explanation,” Ingrid interjects, nodding at Dimitri after having felt the sphere’s temperature.

Sylvain makes a sad little whine as Dimitri finally dissolves the sphere around his body, keeping small, separate ones for each fish. The mild sadness dissipates as soon as the air hits him though and now he’s clutching at himself, teeth chattering and shivering violently.

“Hut,” Felix says.

“Hut,” Sylvain agrees and then they’re walking back to their hut, floating fish and all. Ingrid makes sure to grab his bucket and fishing rod.

Being in the hut isn’t much of an improvement, nothing can really beat how cold the tundra is after all, but there is fire. Sylvain scurries to it instantly, Ingrid following with a fur to dry him off. The boar stands in the doorway, rifling through one of their packs for sticks to skewer the rest of the fish with.

Felix huffs.

Without a word, he grabs his own handful and proceeds outside, slamming the door, and bending water over Dimitri’s so that the spheres become his own. Felix does not like working with Dimitri, but he will do whatever it takes to survive out here and _surviving_ does not involve starving to death because of the blond’s sluggish handling of food.

Dimitri is smart enough to say nothing in response.

When they’re done, they carry the fish back inside. Seventeen, Felix counted, which should be a good ratio. Three for each of the men and eight for Ingrid. They’ll be full tonight.

Sylvain has more or less stopped shivering now, bundled up in furs by the fire and his eyes light up when he and Dimitri proceed to sit and start “cooking.”

“How many?” 

“Seventeen,” Felix drawls.

“ _Nice_.”

He rolls his eyes.

They’d had thirteen yesterday. Seven on the day before. Twelve. Fifteen. This is the most they’ve ever had, so Felix supposes the boar does have his uses. He can already feel his stomach start to grumble.

“You’ll be feasting tonight, Ing,” Sylvain grins at the girl and Felix has to hold back a snort at the way Ingrid’s face reddens the slightest bit. Barely noticeable, but there.

“Thank you for the sustenance,” she says, deadpan then proceeds to take Sylvain’s face in his hands. This snort is even harder to conceal because Sylvain looks like an absolute idiot at the contact.

“You’re hurt,” Ingrid observes, fingers running over the red on his face, “what did this to you?”

“A polar bear.”

“A fish.”

The look Sylvain sends Dimitri tells the rest of them the real answer.

“Leave it to you to be hurt by a _fish_ of all things,” Felix remarks.

“Hey, it was a very feisty fish, ok? Came flying out of nowhere,” Sylvain whines.

“You were distracted? It isn’t like you to let your mind wander when you fish,” Dimitri asks, concerned. 

Sylvain shrugs. “Of course I was! The sky looked beautiful today, I couldn’t help it!”

At that, all three of them give him unconvinced looks.

There is nothing beautiful about the South Pole. No beauty in the arctic wastelands, in the way one has to struggle to survive. Felix finds no majesty in scattered boulders and frozen animal carcasses, in freezing temperatures and the bleakness of it all. The sky is always either clear, gray or pitch black. None of them appeal to him.

“Ok, all of you clearly have no faith in my… _aesthetic appreciation_ ,” Sylvain pouts.

Felix scoffs. Dimitri lets out a startled laugh. Ingrid rolls her eyes.

“Stay still,” she tells him, and begins gathering water in one hand. Felix watches quietly.

Ingrid’s water heals.

It had been customary for all the women in their tribe to learn first-aid. Bender or not, any and all females were subjected to the head healer's teachings and expectations. Day in and day out. Every hour of every day.

Ingrid had been the best healer in their tribe before they kicked all of them out.

As Sylvain’s posture relaxes, Felix is reminded of the last time Ingrid had healed him.

_“That was stupid of you!” Ingrid yells, running towards him, anxious._

_Felix gets up from the ice slowly. He’s sore, moving stings, and he’s pretty sure he tastes blood in his mouth. “I thought it would work!” he exclaims despite it._

_Yes, he’d thought propelling his sled with water would finally get him over the hill Glenn and Dimitri built last week. Instead, it rushes him towards it faster, faster, faster, until he veers off course at the last second and crashes his sled into a small rock, sending him flying until he skids across the ice._

_Man, Felix is glad he tried this at dawn._

_“Stupid!” Felix winces as Ingrid finally gets to him. “Are you hurt?”_

_Felix gives her an unimpressed look._

_“Who am I kidding, of course you are,” Ingrid sighs before sitting him back down and following. She grabs his arm to examine._

_“Why are you even awake?” he tries to keep the pout off his face. No one was supposed to see him. No one’s even supposed to be awake this early._

_“Late night at the healer’s.” Ingrid starts gathering water._

_“Late ni- Are you just going home now?” he asks, incredulous._

_Ingrid nods sluggishly and Felix finally notices the bags under her eyes. He scowls before pulling his arm away._

_“Go home. I’ll let someone-”_

_“No.”_

_The harshness of her voice startles him, even more the way she pulls his arm back and starts healing anyway. “What?”_

_“Just,” she directs a weary gaze at him, “let me do this, ok?”_

_Felix is quiet then._

_He’s never seen her this tired before. Frustration is apparent beneath the fatigue and there’s something sad about the way she gazes down at his arm before finally applying her water on it. Something is wrong, but Felix gets the feeling she wouldn’t exactly be open to talking about it._

_“Ok,” he simply says and lets her healing wash over him._

_Ingrid’s healing feels like home._

_It’s warm, nice, reminds Felix of Dimitri, of Sylvain and he likes being reminded of his friends. Recovery is pleasant by her hand and, for the first time in a while, he feels truly at peace. Just her, him, and the rising sun._

_Mechanical sounds come from the ocean and they both turn at the same time._

_“Ships?”_

_Felix squints. “Can you make out the flags?”_

_“No, but father didn’t say anything about supplies getting delivered today. Did yours?”_

_Felix shakes his head, a pit forming in his stomach. “No.”_

_The ships’ whistles sound in the distance. They continue to stare._

_Later, they will recognize the familiar redness of the flag. They will gaze at each other in confusion and slow apprehension before Glenn will find them and snatch them away, frantic, fearful._

_Later, their tribe will burn._

“You alright, Fel?”

Felix meets Sylvain’s worried gaze, takes note of how Ingrid and, ugh, _Dimitri_ are looking at him in blatant concern. Felix does not like being looked at with concern.

“Fine,” he gruffs out and returns his attention to the fish.

Memories do them no good here. Especially one as grim as the one Felix just recalled.

Sylvain takes one last calculating look at him before pasting a smile on his face and turning away. The mark is gone now, Ingrid’s masterful handiwork.

“Ok then. I’d say these bad boys are about ready to eat, don’t you think?” he gestures at all the fish over the fire, “who’s hungry?”

The answer, as always, is everyone.

Dinner goes by in the blink of an eye, the passing of time marked by the number of Sylvain’s jokes, the little burps Ingrid tries to downplay, and how many times Dimitri turns to Felix looking like he wants to say something, but never does. He probably thinks Felix doesn’t notice, but he’s wrong.

When they finish, they clean everything up. Plates are washed, fish bones tossed, bigger fire doused. Few words are spoken. This is routine, nothing changes enough for anyone to speak out about it.

They all crawl into their furs after. Dimitri, Sylvain, Felix, Ingrid. The usual order, the set order.

Tomorrow, they will move again, pack up their hut and crunch along the tundra to their next destination, wherever that may be. Tomorrow, they will hope they maintain the same luck they had with food today. Tomorrow, they will settle somewhere else.

Felix closes his eyes and lets sleep sink its claws into him.

* * *

_“Well, here we go.”_

_Sylvain looks at them with hardened grief. He thinks he does a good job of hiding it, but all three of them know him too well for that. His grip on his packs is tight, the smile on his face is strained, everything is wrong._

_Felix looks behind him._

_Their tribe, Rodrigue at the helm with a mournful expression and his mother crying. Ingrid’s and Sylvain’s parents are much the same, beside themselves with grief and actively showing it. Their pride, their joy, banished._

_What will stick with Felix is the malicious smirk Miklan has on his face as he waves them goodbye._

_When they leave, no one will be “better.” The Southern Water Tribe will be robbed of all their benders. No more shortcuts. No more power._

_Felix wonders if they actually thought this through._

_When he faces forward once more, he is not surprised to see Dimitri already fiddling with their compass._

_He hadn’t turned back. He has no family left. The Fire Nation took everything from him._

_Ingrid throws one last lingering gaze at the far end of the village, past all that have crowded to see them off._

_Glenn’s grave. Felix visited it last night. After the boar, but before her._

_It will be the last time in a long time._

_“Ready?” Sylvain asks._

_“Ready,” Felix spits._

_“Ready,” Dimitri breathes._

_“Ready,” Ingrid declares._

_With that, their journey begins._

**Author's Note:**

> *stares at list of 69421 ideas*
> 
> *checks off this one*
> 
> nice
> 
> kudos and comments appreciated, hope y'all enjoyed !
> 
> [my twitter!](https://twitter.com/trixstarsss)


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